


pink button

by desla_be



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Play, Anal Sex, F/M, Handcuffs, One Shot, Pegging, Porn, dubcon, very light dom/sub undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24451600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desla_be/pseuds/desla_be
Summary: After Sandor displays a subtle, peculiar interest in Sansa’s kinkier toys, she decides to take things into her own hands.Aka Sandor gets pegged. This is porn. What can you do.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 73





	pink button

**Author's Note:**

> Marked dubcon because Sansa does things without asking.

A little nudge...

Sandor jerked forward. “You said you would go _slowly_!” he barked, turning to look at Sansa over his shoulder. 

Sansa put her hand on his bottom. “Going slowly doesn’t mean not going at all, Sandor.” She hadn’t even done anything yet anyway. Nothing, at least, that he was unfamiliar with. 

He grimaced and dropped his head back down. 

There wasn’t much he could do to stop her technically, since he was on his knees and handcuffed to the bed frame... but obviously Sansa wouldn’t do anything without his consent. The handcuffs were just for fun...  And because Sandor was a terrible listener, and he probably wouldn’t have stayed still otherwise. 

“You did really well last time,” Sansa said, stroking his hip encouragingly. 

“Last time you used a finger.”

She shook her head. “Two.” 

Sandor turned, “Two?” he glanced at her hand and scoffed. “Well no shit, your fingers are fucking microscopic.”

He swore again when she gave his balls a light tug. 

“Don’t discredit yourself,” Sansa said. “You’ve done perfectly fine with plugs, too.”

“I would not say ‘ _perfectly fine_ ,’” he said, offering a short, bitter chuckle.

It was _usually_ fine, but if ever it wasn’t it was because he refused to relax. All he did was _complain_ , and when he wasn’t doing that, he was complaining some more. In fact, he continued protesting any sort of anal play until the moment that Sansa stuck him in, even when it was only ascertaining to a finger. 

For someone who was so used to getting into fights, Sandor seemed very concerned with pain. Or, Sansa _assumed_ that it was the pain he was worried about. He’d never done it before and each time they got relatively close to anything bigger than a plug, he came up with some wild reason why they couldn’t. 

_I had Taco Bell for lunch_ , he told her one evening— an evening in which he said would finally be the night. When he started describing what he’d eaten... well, needless to say, it was a turnoff. 

And another time it was because he was _so sore from a massive shit he’d taken earlier_ , and he didn’t want to be even more tender after Sansa ‘ran him through.’ Also a turnoff. 

_Bull_ , Sansa had thought, and if it was the truth then it was time for a visit to the doctor’s office because she was quite certain that wasn’t normal. 

The excuses were getting rather annoying. She didn’t complain nearly as much when he had wanted to try anal with her, and for good reason: it felt good. 

Though the proposition of him wearing handcuffs seemed to make his decision a lot easier, though the correlation wasn’t obvious to Sansa. But really she didn’t care about _why_ he decided to make tonight the night; the only thing she was focused on was finally being able to introduce him to what he’d been missing. _What he could’ve had weeks ago if he wasn’t so stubborn,_ Sansa thought. 

She was also very, very excited to wear her harness... and to wield a _member_ , regardless of how blue or synthetic it was. 

Sansa ran her finger, glistening with cold, water-based lube over his bum and beamed when he bowed his head again. “You just have to relax,” she said. 

“ _You_ just have to go _slowly_ ,” growled Sandor. 

It would be one thing if he truly didn’t want to do it... but he did. He was the one who proposed it! Well... not really. He’d gone to the sex shop for a butt plug and came home with two _by mistake_. _As if_ Sansa would’ve believed that Sandor, basically _Scrooge_ in his penny-pinching, would’ve spent more money than he had to. And then he had the nerve to get all sorts of puffed up when Sansa asked if he was wanting to try something new. 

The following night, she poked around his cheeks while he was on top of her. One little press had him wide-eyed and drawing away from her, but the fact that his withdrawal was only impaling him further had him in _quite a pickle_. She’d tried to wiggle it in, but there was little success without lube and Sandor obviously wasn’t going to let her get any. The additional pressure, however, had been enough to make him come, rather prematurely. He was really angry about it afterwards, but Sansa supposed that didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things... because he was interested in doing it again.

Not a whole week went by before he agreed to a whole finger! And soon after that followed the plug that he _hadn’t_ bought for himself. 

It stirred her to sit in front of him while he laid on his back, legs bent and spread for her. She’d needed a few passes of lube to get it all the way in, but soon enough Sandor had a pink button sticking out of his ass. The plug that he’d gotten for himself was black, but Sansa wanted to see him with the hot pink one instead so she worked extra hard to make her eyes twinkle. 

However, unfortunately her pouting didn’t extend very deep into the bedroom and she had to proposition a few things before he caved. Sansa never really understood what the big deal was. How much harm could be done if he couldn’t even see it? No one would see it... no one but her. The thought made her skin hot.

Despite Sandor’s unwavering grumpiness about the whole thing, the offensive color didn’t impact his pleasure at all in the end. He was taught and tight as though... as though he had a stick up his ass. But with a little back-and-forth on the plug, she hardly had to lick him a minute before he got his rocks off. 

_Don’t get used to it_ , Sandor had told her, regarding her experimental dominatrix identity. 

But she _was_ getting used to it. It was a whole different thing to be the penetrator... and the power that she had over him was becoming a little addictive. Granted, the ‘penetration’ that she’d given him consisted of her fingers and a plug... but it was still a great adrenaline rush. And despite Sandor’s complaints, they both enjoyed it. So much so that he’d been stuffed with a plug more often than not these past few weeks. 

And the noised that he made... they were possibly the best part. He’d never moaned like that before, not even close. She was convinced that the satisfaction would never falter. It was like he was made for her, in this way, made to take _her_ in, instead of the other way around. Or... made to take her _silicone unit_ in.

She fancied herself a man with the dildo secured to her front and her boxer brief harness did nothing but aid the fantasy. Nor the fact that he was handcuffed into doggy-style in front of her. Lately her veins had felt more familiar with adrenaline than blood and the feeling was so close... All she had to do was get it in and he would be hers, as she’d been his. 

The harness that she’d gotten had an interior slot for a bullet vibrator, which would allegedly heighten Sandor’s pleasure as well as her own. It seemed suspiciously like a marketing scheme, but she bought the little vibrator anyway. Of course, she would wait a little while before turning that on; she would wait until he was used to the rest first. 

“Slowly,” Sansa repeated, staring at her target. She spread his thighs a little wider with her hands and lined herself up. His legs had to be bent at an angle, otherwise she simply wouldn’t have been able to reach him.

“Oh— _Fuck_ , Sansa— slower,” he called out, his back taut as a bow even though she’d hardly gotten an inch deep. 

Sansa stilled and reached for the bottle of lube. Of course she wouldn’t have him hurting, but there was a large part of her that suspected it was really just in his head. After all, the plug wasn’t any narrower... She gave herself a couple of passes with it and pressed the curved head back into him.

Sandor had been very appalled by the dildo’s realism when he first saw it and honestly, he probably still was. But... Sansa had already opened it by the time that he‘d complained and even he didn’t want to _waste money_ by buying another less realistic phallus. 

His hips provided steady leverage for her to brace her thrust against. And the sounds that he made... each moan that she drew from him sent chills down her spine. The first inch felt good enough, Sansa knew. _Nerve endings or something like that_. The sensation changed a bit after that inch, however, and that was when more lubrication was usually necessary, though she wondered how much their anatomical differences changed the experience. 

She didn’t have to wait long to find out once he called for her to ‘ _wet her prick’_ some more. 

“You’re doing really well,” Sansa told him, stroking the dip in his back once she was settled again. She still wasn’t even close to being halfway in, though she knew how uncomfortable it could be at first. 

Sandor didn’t respond but his reciprocation of her gentle rocking was good enough. His head was hanging low and he was breathing heavily, and before long he required more lubrication. 

“It wouldn’t be an issue if you used enough the first time,” Sandor said. 

Sansa glanced back at his bottom while she squeezed the bottle. His skin was already a bit red where she’d left him, and he was a bit _daring_ for a man restrained and at her mercy.

“It’s not my fault that your bum is eating up the lube like there’s no tomorrow.” 

“There’s nothing I can— _Sh_ — _Fuck_!“

She wasn’t as compassionate when she pushed into him; not after his insolence. 

Determined to go deeply this time, Sansa moved steadily forward. His body had permitted her a few inches, only she was reminded of how much she wasn’t a true dominatrix when she felt him tremble beneath her hands. 

“Is everything okay?” Sansa halted. Had she been too rough with him? The possibility that she’d caused him genuine harm made her lungs tighten. 

Sandor nodded his head curtly, but Sansa didn’t buy it and leaned towards him. Only, although her intentions had been to _comfort_ him, she’d forgotten that she was still seated in his bum and incidentally thrust deeper. He swore and jerked forward. 

“I’m so sorry!” she yelped. She wasn’t used to having such an appendage to think about and it had made her a bit overeager... 

Though instead of barking at her, Sandor only laughed through his recovering pants. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he chuckled rather weakly, taut as a bow because she still hadn’t thought to pull out. “Keep going. It’s not... bad.”

While there was certainly nerve about hurting him, Sansa didn’t need to be told twice. She reached around to cup his balls and began moving back and forth.

It was quite overwhelming for her to be inside of someone for the first time and she could hardly imagine how Sandor felt about the atypical invasion. She almost thought to cry, though that would’ve killed the mood for certain.  Despite her appendage being made of silicone, Sansa thought she could almost feel him... She felt the pressure against her front acutely and along with the sight of him stretched at her will, it was like a part of her was really inside of him. 

The sound of his handcuffs overwhelmed the room; they _clank_ ed together each time she directed his hips towards her own and it made her head ring and her ears thrum. She’d not once before considered him submissive, but his humility, the fashion in which he gave himself away made her aware of the tempo of her own heartbeat, the rhythm that her blood took on pumping.

Somehow Sansa almost laughed; that he should have a piece of silicone in his body, completely unrelated to her and her nervous system, yet she felt like she might’ve been the one to climax. Her skin was boiling, and he was panting and grunting while she fought to keep her ragged breathing pattern unnoticed. 

It was hard work!— She could feel her abs starting to ache already, and her knees were not far behind. His muscles were resistant to her and Sansa couldn’t help but feel like she was exercising as she thrust into him, only... unlike _actual_ exercise, this was a workout that she could see herself doing without much hassle.

Perhaps she had relaxed some after imagining herself to be hurting him, but she couldn’t help be wary when Sandor told her to go faster.

“Deeper, Sansa. You won’t hurt me,” he rasped over his shoulder. 

Though when she complied with his wishes, his voice fell off and a chill went through her as he called out her name. His howl was of the same lilting and rumbling notes that it usually was when they lay together, only the change in circumstance had her thinking that she might actually cry. Only, _it would ruin the moment_ , Sansa was convinced, and she wouldn’t allow herself to ruin the moment.

The pace still wasn’t very fast and she still wasn’t very deep, but she was perfectly content watching her blue length move in and out of him.  That being said, she wanted Sandor to be more than content so she slid her hand from his balls to pump him as she was used to, where she wasn’t worried about him getting hurt. 

He swore and leaned his face into his forearms, his body rocking back and forth because of _Sansa_. And the sound of the chain rattling against the wood—

Sansa sighed. She could see sweat glistening in the cracks around his shoulder blades, along his spine and on the backs of his thighs. Her hand left him so that she could reach down and turn on the little bullet hidden in her harness. Immediately her legs went as taught and stiff as his.

It wasn’t clear whether it was a reverberation of the vibrations running through him or his own pleasure taking control, but Sandor was trembling under her hands. And the noises that he’d been making earlier were nothing compared to now; he moaned freely, louder and louder each time she thrust in. 

She had to wiggle the bullet a few times to get the right spot, but once she did... well, she remembered why she’d waited until the end to turn it on. _Definitely_ not _just a marketing strategy_. It was making her thighs ache and burn and every stroke increased the pressure until she was sounding right along with him. 

Sansa shut her eyes and planted her hands on his hips, driving him hard until she couldn’t hold herself off any longer. One little tear would be alright, and if he thought to ask about it she could say that it derived from the intensity of sensation. One little tear slipped out from Sansa’s closed eyelids... hot and salty as it slipped between the parting of her lips. Except it wasn’t the lone tear that she imagined. It was several tears, hot and salty and thin and she was wiping them away furiously before long. Sandor didn’t even seem to notice when she wiped a few off of his back.

Nothing could’ve stopped her pleasure, however, and certainly not a little crying. Her bliss rippled through her from toe to neck, melting her at the core and spreading outwards to touch every edge of her entity. More out of intuition than consciousness, she slumped forward into Sandor and drove as far as his body allowed. 

If she didn’t reach down to turn off the bullet, she feared it would’ve burned a hole through her. Sansa was grateful, therefore, to feel Sandor unravel under her fingertips; to feel him quiver, to feel his sweat seep into her fingertips, and to feel the fine hairs on his back wiggle and wind and stand right up against her hands. She flickered her eyes down to watch him convulse around her a few moments, shaking and panting and pulling at his handcuffs. 

And not a minute after he’d reclaimed his breath did he insist that she undo his restraints. 

“Hold on,” Sansa said, not yet concerned with what seemed to be his only priority. “I haven’t even pulled out yet.” 

“No shit,” said Sandor, trying to get out of his bonds to no avail. 

“Well, let’s hope not,” she laughed. Sandor shot a nasty look at her from his shoulder. 

Sansa sighed. That _might’ve been unfair._ She placed her hands flat against his bottom and began to draw herself back. 

His back arched slightly when only the tip remained, and he deflated gracelessly against the comforter when she was entirely out. He was a few shades rosier and a tad more swollen than he was before their evening started, but nothing disastrous had occurred. She thought to sit back and catch her breath properly for a moment but Sandor wouldn’t have it. 

“Unlock the cuffs, Sansa,” he barked, shiny with sweat. 

“ _Okay_ ,” she said exasperatedly. 

When she leaped out of the bed, her dildo flopped around in the air and she started laughing. And then she imagined Sandor to be in a similar situation, and what he would look like had he just jumped naked off the bed; if he would experience the same _flopping_. 

Sandor lifted his head from his wrists to see what amused her so and rolled his eyes after looking her up and down. It took some fishing in her deep spandex pockets to find the little key, but it was no task getting him freed after that. 

The kiss that Sansa expected from him was obviously nothing more than an illusion because not a minute after he was liberated from the bed, Sandor raced away to the bathroom in his birthday suit. He was nearly limping after the number that she’d done him, which should’ve made her feel bad... though she had to cover her mouth not to chuckle staring at his bare bottom. 

And the towel that he’d been laying on... If she hadn’t had a front-row seat to the rest of his orgasm, the towel that he’d soiled would’ve been enough to convince her just how much he’d enjoyed himself. Sansa balled it up and threw it at the hamper. Her harness was next to come off, and she threw it in with the faux member, even though neither toy could go through the wash. She threw on one of Sandor’s oversized t-shirts and waited for his return. 

“You didn’t even give me a kiss,” Sansa complained when he entered again, clothed from the waist down. His eyes were half-lidded and he looked quite exhausted, though she sensed a little glow about him. 

“I thought that there was a more _urgent_ situation,” Sandor said, his lips twisting. He bent his head so that she could kiss him. 

“And was there?” 

“No,” Sandor laughed and rubbed his eyes. “But you’re awfully skilled with a cock. Does that count?”

Sansa felt her face grow hot and she couldn’t stop herself smiling. “Really?” 

He scratched his head and nodded. 

“So... you liked it,” she said, half a statement and half a question. Of course she knew that he liked it, but... for him to say it would be... 

Sandor stood to his full height again. “Well... what if I did?” 

Despite just having gotten off, hearing him suggest that he’d had as much fun as her made her ache delightfully. Sansa cupped him beneath the bottom. “Then we can do it again,” she said. “And again,” she added, leaning her chin against his chest and staring up at him. “...And _again_.” 

He drooped forward against her and his lids shut. Sandor leaned his face into her neck. “Again and again, eh? Can we start tomorrow?”

Sansa shook her head dramatically. “No, we have to start again right now.” 

Sandor pulled his head back and laughed. “No fucking way. Just remember that whatever cock you might have is very capable of disappearing.”

”Just remember that they’re not very expensive and I can buy another.”

He went still. _Victory_ , Sansa thought. 

”Fuck, Sansa, can we just... start tomorrow?”

”Fine,” she sighed. Honestly, she never had any interest in another go tonight. She was tired and her hips ached far too much for a second round of being growled at for more lube. “But we _will_ go again tomorrow. You’re a heavy sleeper and I promise that I’m not above handcuffing you to the bed again.” 

Sandor’s eyes widened and he glanced over at the headboard that he’d been restrained to. “Right...” he chuckled, and put his hands up in surrender. “Tomorrow it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> me, slightly horrified about this.


End file.
